


Blind Leading the Blind

by junuve



Series: We Foolish Vessels [7]
Category: Nier Gestalt | Nier, Nier Gestalt | Nier Replicant | Nier (Video Games)
Genre: Action, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Horror, Humor, M/M, the ultimate trifecta, this is going to be a properly dark nier-themed fairy tale, with bookdad goofs sprinkled in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27399460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junuve/pseuds/junuve
Summary: Nier and Weiss help an old adventurer embark on her final voyage to a hidden treasure, an object which might provide a map to the Shadowlord himself! But this old adventurer’s ‘chart of the stars’ is not her most beloved treasure…That treasure’s loss can only be repaid by the spilling of a murderer’s blood.(This starts off wild but bear with it. Parts of this take place before the events of the game and others occur during the timeskip.)
Relationships: Grimoire Rubrum/OC, Grimoire Weiss/Nier
Series: We Foolish Vessels [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543177
Kudos: 13





	1. Cold Steel Coffin

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is probably as close as we'll get to a new Nier:Gestalt story-based quest (unless there is an act of divine nature), and what major Nier quest DOESN'T start off with a sad flashback sequence of characters who DEFINITELY don't get screwed over by Nier himself in the future!? A lot of the major quests, actually, but just think of this fic as being structured a bit like the Junk Heap or Facade sagas.
> 
> Anyway, always feel free to let me know what you do or don't like about the fic! Thanks for reading! <3

Giddy laughter echoed down the old mine tunnels. Two children made a racket as they tried to hush one another’s snickering.

The excitement derived from doing that which was strictly prohibited filled their bellies with flutters.

“You shush,” Marie told her friend, Peter.

“No YOU,” he shot back.

Marie shoved at him, and he shoved back a touch. Their teeth flashed bright in the light of Peter’s torch, all smiles and blushes and gangly movements.

The cage in the girl’s grasp jangled and chattered as it was swung around, the small creature imprisoned inside having a much less pleasant experience.

The children’s antics had to pause as they found themselves at the base of a deep cut in the tunnel. They stared up at an impossible climb, but were saved by the ladder conveniently left intact long after the Aerie’s miners had abandoned this stretch of the network.

“Take it.”

Marie passed the cage to Peter and the contents squeaked in protest as its confinement tumbled.

She ascended the ladder with a nimble ease. Fortunately, Peter couldn’t quite enjoy the sight to the fullest as the torch in his hand was just dim enough to obscure details.

When it was his turn to scale the cut, Peter stared at the ladder, then at his torch and the chattering cage, and then back to the ladder. He wondered about putting the torch handle in his mouth, but it was a bit large to bite down on, and he was afraid of dropping it or setting his hair on fire. That would be very uncool.

He had no idea what to do with the caged rat. Maybe he would… throw it?

“Let me take those,” Marie called down to him.

Peter made a face. “How?”

“Magic!” she replied matter-of-factly. “Hand it up.”

Peter stood up on his tiptoes, extending the torch and the cage as high as his shoulders allowed. A soft rumbling resonance cause the air to shiver with energy. Peter noticed a pitch glistening force affixed itself, letters of luminous red dancing around the dark, mimicking the torch’s embers.

He glanced over to the cage and thread-like glints of ruby had webbed around it, a line leading off and disappearing up the cut.

“Let go,” Marie commanded.

As soon as he did the torch and the cage rose up, gently and smoothly, carried by this power he could scarcely see. Marie grabbed hold of the the objects in her true hands, and the energy dispelled. Even from below, Peter could see the fading runes and symbols scarred into her young flesh as they glimmered gold like little stars in the dark.

He stood there in awe, still unused to his friend’s new… abilities. It seemed like only last week she’d still been slathered in ointment and swaddled in gauze while waiting for the marks to heal.

It seemed grisly and cruel to Peter, but when faced with the suffering, everyone in the village would simply chime the old saying:

“ _Revere the Augurs, who wear the skin of shades so that we may not.”_

Marie yelled down, concerned, “are you coming or not?”

“Oh!” Peter jolted from his ruminations, and with free hands, easily climbed the ladder and joined her.

From there they traveled deeper yet into the mines and away from the well-lit sconces leading home.

Their trek grew quieter as the light dimmed. When Peter’s torch became the only visible shred of light in their whole world, the small voice of self-preservation tried to cut through their excitement-addled minds… to no avail, naturally.

“Hey,” Marie spoke up, her voice echoing. “Did you…?”

“What?” his voice was pinched with paranoia as he watched Marie cast around the darkness.

“Did you… sense something?” she repeated, still alert.

Peter glanced around too, past his torch, down into the unknowable depths. He strained to see anything, and his light-dulled eyes gave no answer.

“No?” he relented finally.

“Eh, this place is creepy,” Marie shrugged it off, confidently continuing, “no one takes the path anymore. Must be bats.”

“Oh, if there are _bats_ , I’ll kill ‘em!” Peter boasted, slapping a hand over his most prized possession - a dagger. The blade was comically large on the boy, dragging down his tunic.

Marie smiled at that. He had a very beguiling, forward way about him.

“Not if I don’t get them with magic first!” she taunted him.

“You wanna bet?” Peter returned with enthusiasm.

“Just don’t miss and stab me,” she teased.

“I won’t!” he feigned offense, “just promise you won’t turn me into a newt!”

“Seriously? I can’t even transmute yet,” Marie sounded exasperated, “and even if I could, I wouldn’t turn you into a newt. I’d turn you into something better. A fairy.”

“A fairy!” Peter was incredulous.

Marie started giggling at him and he pretended to be out of sorts, but started up snickering too.

The two continued to revel and spar, resorting again to poking at each other down the long, quiet tunnels.

Ever so often, the torchlight would expose a column of silver in the tunnel, and thus they knew they were on course to their destination. The metallic columns, one and two and ten, led to a place considered holy by the villages the region over.

_The Aviary._

And now Marie and Peter stood at its threshold, their jovial banter silenced by the solemnity exuding from the holy place.

The structure within the massive space was made from the same materials as the Aerie proper, however, instead of focusing on keeping itself suspended above, the Aviary focused on keeping itself tethered to the below. Scarlet wires were strung taught, encircling the room like a myriad of harp strings, playing tricks on the eyes as shadow and light slipped betwixt them. The large steel cage they bound spanned the entire round, many meters deep. The cage’s rungs were woven with magic, deep and dark like aged blood, with holes in its side only big enough perhaps to squeeze one’s hand through.

Even so, the magic enveloping was translucent, and through the smoky haze, one might catch a glimpse of what was inside.

Peter staggered around, marveling at the place. Though all heard of it, most common folk of the Aerie were forbidden to sully the purity of this sanctuary.

“Where’s the light coming from?” he asked, as his torch did little good in the room despite there being no apparent aperture through which light could spill into the cave.

Marie made a face. “Magic, ya idiot.”

Peter returned a look. “…like I’ve cast any spells before.”

Most of the boys didn’t rebound from her sharp manners, but he took it in stride.

He walked over and secured his torch to a sconce on the wall.

“I can’t see anything in there.” He pointed to the cage’s floor. “Is it invisible?”

Marie shrugged, saying as she approached the cage’s edge, weaving her own body through the taught cords encompassing, “I dunno. I’ve only seen it once.”

Peter followed after her. “Once?” he seemed surprised, “isn’t it yours?”

“Eventually,” she answered, and then remarked as she looked up, “maybe it’s hiding in the top. You do know these things fly, don’t ya?”

“I know!” Peter retorted, watching her inspect the magical lattice swirling around the cage, “but will it come out?”

“Shut up! I’m working on it!”

Marie focused and summoned upon her training, the markings upon her skin alighting with soft, golden effulgence. Though her grasp of magic was in its infancy, she was still one of the few in the land who could dare to mingle her will with this force. It was the Augur’s pride, and their duty to the Aerie. It was their burden to bear the volatile magics of the world so that the common folk need not.

But noble service was the last thing on Marie’s mind. She just wanted to impress Peter by showing him the power the future of her role held for her.

“Come on, put the cage up here,” she told him.

Peter stopped his gaping and shuffled forward, taking the cage, and kneeling down to where Marie gestured.

As she hummed strange words, a small fraction of the weaving spells around the cage’s rungs unlatched. Just enough to shove the opening of the cage through. In one motion, Peter slipped the front gate of the cage open and shoved it into the hole. He thumped the back of the cage, and with much hesitance, the tiny prisoner scurried free and into the Aviary.

Peter snatched back the cage as Marie let the weaving magic flow yet again. The glow on her body faded as her humming ceased. She noticed Peter carefully observing the phenomena… entranced with _her_ , not the Aviary.

“The mouse, Peter! Watch! You’ll miss it!” She poked a finger at the miserable rodent, feeling a flush run through her.

Peter ripped his eyes away. “Oh, right. Sorry,” he mumbled bashfully.

He didn’t mean to gawk. He’d just never seen magic up close before, nor had he ever expected it to be so striking. But maybe that was the Marie part and not the magic part…

He had no idea what he was about to witness in regards to the rat, either, and as he gazed through the dim warping weavings of the outside, a strange dread began to tighten around his flesh. The anticipation made him keenly aware now that the top of the Aviary was pitch black, obscured from view. He had no idea how high the cage’s steel skeleton ran. There was no telling what was hiding up there.

Marie and Peter waited, watching the rat scurry helpless around the open area, distressed at the lack of coverage.

It’s instincts were true.

Death loomed.

As the two children sat there, the quiet consumed them. Without the sun’s subtle lilt or the motion of the Aerie’s inhabitants, the passage of time grew murky.

They keenly strained, their ears opening up to the quiet. A current of wind played through the taught scarlet wires, and metallic shimmers filled the sanctum.

Neither of the children dared to move.

Peter’s notion to try to sneak a bit of hand-holding? That was long gone, vanished amidst the instincts rushing through his mind.

A long low hiss ushered through the room, and his body chilled. Peter watched intensely as Marie took a singular step backwards. He felt like running, but no way was he going to leave a girl behind. Even if she was, for all intents and purposes, a witch and capable herself…

Marie watched the ceiling, and though her eyes saw naught, her ears searched desperately for the source. A raking inhale drew her eyes elsewhere.

A prick of red above—and then a squeak.

The two’s focus snapped down to the rat, and with sickening fascination, they gawked at how a spire of undulating darkness had sprung up through the floor and perfectly skewered its minuscule body. The spire was so thin and fine that the rat still lived, struggling wildly at eye level with them.

Another squeak, and the rat’s body began to sink inward, strangling it. The skin drew back and its eyes receded into its skull until finally its skin began to split around pale, bloodless flesh and soft pink bone. The creature’s meat was peeled from its skeleton and drawn into the darkness. What remained was the skeleton, held together by sinew, but it too began to collapse inward, following its flesh as all became part of the spire’s mass.

Finally, the last of the rat disappeared, tail and all. Marie heard a exhale of breath as Peter leaned forward.

The spire lifted off the floor, turning from solid to liquid by separating into droplets and floating weightlessly up into the hidden air above. The droplets disappeared and a terrible rumbling emanated through the cave, sending shivers through every steel tether and bar and through the bodies of the children themselves.

Peter was backing away. “Can it get out?”

Marie shook her head. “It’s never even tried. Not as far as I know.”

“Really?” Peter didn’t seem to believe that. “But one wrong move and…”

“That’s why we feed it before we go in,” Marie explained.

“Seems hungry…”

“It likes rats.”

“It… _likes_ rats?”

Marie nodded deeply.

“Gross.”

The two stood there for another minute, watching the ceiling into which the globular remains of the rat had drifted, leery-eyed but somehow still sickly curious. No matter how hard their bodies cried to flee from the seeping dread, their imagination yearned to catch sight.

Peter eventually grew bored of looking after a while, and then remembered with a start, _oh right! Hold her hand… my plan…_

He debated on how to best do such a thing, and then decided to just seize her hand. If she didn’t like it, she could slap him away, but if she did like it, it’d be done! Easy!

Peter suddenly grabbed Marie’s left hand, clutching on. She jerked back, eyes wide as she looked down her outstretched arm and to Peter’s surprised face.

“What? Are you scared?” she asked him.

“…what?” Peter was confused. “No! I’m not scared! I’m just… uh…”

He kept holding her hand.

Marie softened, her accusing look letting up. “We can go if you’re scared. It’s probably not coming out.”

“That’s… no… I’m not scared, I—”

“Then why are you holding my hand?!”

Peter let go of her hand suddenly and folded his arms, eyes scouring the floor. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to be tough. Marie was going to be an _Augur_. She couldn’t be together with any scared little rabbit.

“Come on,” she groaned, started to pick her way through the taught cables toward the entrance.

“But we haven’t even seen it!” Peter dawdled.

“I’d rather miss it this time instead of seeing you crap your pants,” Marie claimed.

Peter wrinkled his nose, giving her the stink-eye, but followed her away from the cage anyway.

“I’m NOT scared. Take that back,” he demanded.

“It’s OK. I cried the first time I saw it…” Marie tried to make him feel better. “Maybe next time.”

“But—!” Peter cut himself off as he smacked into one of the wires with his forehead, sending loud vibrations through the cord. This set off a chain reaction, and soon all the Aviary’s bars began to hum in a piercing chorus.

It was a beautiful sound…

…followed by a rasping, creaking _groan_.

Peter turned back to Marie, eyes bulging.

In a tone of urgency he had never heard from her before she told him, “we should go.”

Marie hurried and grabbed the torch from the wall, using her magic to stoke it further until it roared red.

Peter summoned upon all his dexterity to slip through the myriad of cords connected to the cage, finally spilling out onto the floor beyond. He scrambled to his feet, padding as swiftly and quietly as he could toward her.

“Come on, come on,” she gestured for him to come, her voice a touch higher than normal.

 _Now_ Peter was scared.

“It’s OK. It usually screams when it’s really angry,” Marie whispered, “we’re lucky…”

Peter nodded feverishly, unwilling to open his yap for fear of irritating the creature held within.

Marie turned around, illuminating their exit with the torch.

Except a pillar of the darkness didn’t illuminate.

A terrible cackle, somewhere between fury and glee, trickled past them and plucked the Aviary’s harp-like cords.

The shade’s dozens of legs scintillated along its slug-like length, and it towered above them, a multitude of points of light locking with the children’s eyes.

Peter screamed.

The shade let loose another roaring laugh as it fell forward, smacking the earth with a horrible squelch. It writhed through gobs of its own viscous blood.

Marie dodged aside, ripping Peter back by the neck of his tunic. Her heart beat quickened. Maybe this shade was nice. Maybe it wasn’t an aggressive kind. Maybe it—

The worm-like creature slung its head around, exposing an orifice filled with needles. It used its spindly legs to lift its sluggish body a breadth off the floor, and then shoved its length forward, every impact a terrible squelch of rot and slime.

All the while, over the cries of surprise from Peter, the shade’s mouth poured forth the dissonant speech, _“hehehe, come back… lil’ birdies… I just need a little… help, a lil’… donation… that’s allllll._ ”

The shade kept advancing, slow, but determined, his many glistening yellow eyes trained on the children.

Marie’s face twisted as she ascertained his saccharine tone from the garbled speech of shades.

“Get back!” she warned the beast.

But still, he lurched and slithered onward, pushing them closer to the congestion of taut scarlet cables abounding from the Aviary cage.

“ _You don’t tell me what to do, girlie!_ ” the shade taunted her.

Marie stood her ground, scowling at the beast. For the merest of moments, the shade seemed surprised. And then he was in pain.

She stabbed the torch into the shade’s oily hide, prompting a howl of agony. He writhed like an injured maggot.

They could out pace this slug easily—a Godsend, she thought.

Marie whipped around, her lips parted to tell Peter to run for it, but the shimmer of a drawn dagger stopped her. Marie watched him charge past her, attacking with a wild cry.

Peter stabbed the shade’s back, ripping a beautiful ravine through his sickly yellow patterning.

“Silence!” Peter crowed, “ye foul bea—”

The shade swung his slimy head into Peter and flung the boy into the steel cabling. Peter’s arms and legs twisted in the cords as he landed, wrenching his joints… or fracturing a bone.

The boy’s face was red with agony as he slid down, dangling inches above the ground.

Marie was stunned.

The shade tried to position himself with his spindly legs so that he could collapse upon Peter and smother the boy, but Marie took her torch and swept the beast’s pathetic feet out from under him. The shade collapsed directly down on his own legs, breaking them outright. The wretched squelch of his impact was accompanied by the crackling of gristle.

Marie bashed the beast’s face with the torch to blind him. The creature’s mucous doused the raging fire, but it was no matter. It would take a minute for the shade to recover, and that was all the time they needed to get out of range. The shade was _slow_. They could _do this_.

Marie offered her hand to Peter through the cables. He was only just recovering from landing and stared at her dumbly.

“COME ON!” she shouted.

Peter’s arm attempted to move, but when it came to the forearm… it just didn’t follow. It bent along the bone, and Peter’s expression crushed inward with pain, tears streaming over his cheeks.

Marie lunged forward and grabbed him by his clothing, wrestling him free from the cabling on her own.

Peter’s face flashed with panic and pain, and he clutched onto her with his good arm, drawing up to his feet. He spared a glance to the writhing beast, watching as the broken, spindly little legs had begun to bundle and weld themselves together, transforming into something sturdier… something resembling _human_ hands and feet and arms and legs…

“RUN!” Marie snapped.

Peter clutched at his injured arm, and started to shamble along on spent joints, his teeth grinding so hard his jaw ached.

The worm rounded upon his disgusting, freshly formed limbs, much faster and nimbler than before. Marie could tell the beast was sizing them up—sizing up the gap. But surely he wouldn’t… surely he _couldn’t_ …

The once sluggish beast rippled across the floor, his long body slinking around them like a centipede, herding them away from the exit.

Marie ran ahead of Peter, shielding him though she only bore a stick. She swung it menacingly at the beast, but such things the creature had figured.

“ _Not so fast, kiddos! I’m gonna need at least ONE of your bodies!_ ” the wretch’s voice was louder now, more alert, more… intelligent, as if he’d awoken from a stupor. “ _Why don’t you leave that lil’ weakling behind, little girlie! I’ll fix him up. Oh, yeah. I’ll use that body to its fullest. Hahaha!_ ”

“SHUT UP!” Marie’s strike was no longer a warning. She bashed the haft against the shade’s gaping face. But the creature took it in stride.

“ _Won’t a fledgling Augur take pity on a poor, poor wittle shadey wadey?_ ” the being’s voice choked up at his own joke.

“Make it stop!” Peter wailed at the distorted speech which he could not understand.

Marie’s eyes burned with fire, and her hands shook with rage unfathomable. If only she knew how to attack with magic. If only she had a spell that could crush this maggot—!

“ _Alright! Fine. Be that way!_ ” the shade relented, and in a deeper, more sinister tone, he concluded, “ _but just know, Augur: you didn’t have to die!_ ”

The shade coiled his body like a snake and took off toward Marie. His dozens of random humanoid arms and legs bowed unnaturally as he pattered across the floor. Suddenly, he wound to her left, flanking her, and aimed a nest of needle-teeth for Peter’s legs.

“ _LEG FOR A LEG, HAHAHAAAAA!_ ” his voice screamed through her mind.

Marie bashed aside Peter. Her body seized up as dozens of splinters of darkness ripped through her calf.

The shade whipped by them, a trail of blood in his wake, bright fresh red crowning his round lips.

The two children tumbled over and into each other. Peter snagged a hold of a wire to avoid falling again, barely able to concentrate as his other arm flopped in obscene ways.

Marie staggered to her feet, breathless, her leg tensing as the disgusting magic from that slug seeped into her bloodstream.

The shade’s dozen eyes gleamed with glee. He sensed weakness, unable to abate a stray, maddened giggle.

Marie had no idea what to do. Her vision darkened as the fetid ichor raced through her body.

The shade coiled himself and launched his oily length at Peter, arcing through the air.

Marie reached out, but she was too late. She saw only the whites of Peter’s eyes and the glimmer of shadeskin as the beast barreled into the boy, wrapping around him. Both tumbled backwards, crashing through and snapping the cables until they hit the barrier of spells and pushed _through_ it…

…finally coming to a stop _inside_ the Aviary.

The sanctuary echoed with the sounds of the disturbance, and for a moment, all was dissipating harmonies as the cables vibrated.

And then there was screaming.

With a slashing motion of the hand, Marie rent a gash in the spells protecting the cage, her runic markings burning into her flesh deeper as she cast wildly, consuming her blood no longer in sips and murmurs but in drafts and roars.

Into the Aviary she burst, and immediately she saw the two, locked.

Peter was wrestling with the shade, his remaining good arm pressed against the prying, needled jaws of the worm. He was screeching, crying, kicking and thrashing to escape out from under the beast’s weight.

Marie dashed forward and in a burst of rage, her magic rekindled the burning embers of the torch in her hand. She jammed the flame into the open wound on the shade’s back, grinding it with a grimace to extract every ounce of pain.

Finally, Peter could wrench himself free as the bloated creature’s legs and jaws spasmed beyond his control. The boy slid across the dust caked paneling of the Aviary cage, floundering as his arms gave out under him.

Marie saw that her friend was free. Good, that was good. Somehow. It was going to be OK, somehow, Marie thought. Peter could escape if he just hurrie—

The hind half of the shade slammed into her, sending her across the Aviary and into the steel bars opposite. Her body played a dissonant song through the connected cabling as she hit the floor.

She snarled and tried to rise, but before she could, the shade was already upon her, using his weight to smash her into the floor.

The metal panels bowed below her, and she felt a horrible snap come from deep inside.

Something was _broken_. Something was _bleeding_.

Marie tried to cast magic to heal, to recover, to do _anything_. But again, the shade threw his body onto her, pummeling her utterly.

Her vision blurred. Her vision _darkened_. One gasp. Two gasps. Her throat ached and her every muscle panged where it’d crushed the steel beneath.

Though she could not see it, she could feel the shade slither away.

Shouts… cries… shade speech… that sickening, lurching squelch as slimy feet dragged a heavy body forward…

No… she had to… get up.

_Get up! You’re an Augur! You—you defend the people of the Aerie. You—y—_

Marie paused her rally, her eyes widening, clearing from their darkened state.

_PETER._

The worm was digging into the boy’s chest, writhing inside him, phasing through flesh. Peter’s body weeped red magic, black magic… clots of smoke and liquid burst out in fits like blood.

Or was that… truly blood?

Marie’s eyes clouded once more, and her lips twisted. The markings marring her skin glowed vivid, each symbol of the script a golden star, absorbing every ounce of power her body could provide.

A strength rushed into her, and she stood again, and took a step, and another, marching toward the shade. She collapsed on the maggot, and he jolted at the impact. Marie wrapped her arms tight around the creature’s girth, and with a strength unnatural, wrested him free from Peter’s chest.

Marie’s body strained and her mouth bubbled, but she continued to strangle the beast, roaring as her rune-lit skin was spattered with the deep black blood of a shade.

Peter had nearly fainted, though he realized his chest cavity hadn’t truly been gouged from his body, almost as if the creature had not aimed for his flesh, but instead… his…?

Never mind.

Peter began to crawl away. He glanced up from the floor—from himself—watching as the shade worm bellowed.

Marie’s hands were like claws, puncturing into the oily, thick membrane wrapped around the shade’s bulk, exposing the air-thin coils of magic beneath his hide.

She bit into the shade’s back, drawing blood, fueling the magic coursing through her body.

“ _NO! NOOOO! LET GOOOO!”_ the shade wailed, his voice wheedling, pleading.

But this only deepened her fury.

Marie let go of her grip, and for a moment the beast thought he had freedom. But before the shade could slither away, she forced her claws into the rip along his back, taking fistfuls of his fetid flesh, and began to tear him asunder with her own two hands.

Peter’s head was lolling, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off her.

Magic… he had scarcely seen it before… He had never thought it would be so… horrifying…

Marie peeled chunks of the worm’s hide free, exposing tender, rapidly pulsing yellow bands of magic. The beast was crying now, his glowing eyes maddened. The Augur continued to take him apart, using her spire-like claws to rip, shred, and maim. A chunk of skin, a borrowed arm, a stolen leg… the disgusting slug of a shade was divested of his hoard of bodily treasures.

All the while, Marie’s body burst with rays of golden light, as if eaten from the inside out.

Was this the price of such powerful magic…?

The shade’s pain was unbearable.

“ _Just kill me! KILL ME! It hurts…_ ” he pleaded. _“Strike the final blow! DO IT! KILL ME! JUST ONE WHACK!”_

But the young Augur could do no such thing.

The golden light ebbed, and her body began to run dry…

No blood. No blood magic.

The dizziness took hold, and the girl collapsed beside her adversary, her scarred skin dormant, like a torch whose ember had died out utterly.

Peter’s mind reeled. What was real seemed so distant. Was this happening? Was Marie…?

“No. No. No. Don’t… you can’t—” his throat contracted so he could not speak. He gazed at the limp body laying in the center of the Aviary’s cold steel floor.

“…please, no…” he pleaded.

The slug of a shade picked himself up, his wounds mortal. He turned to the girl. No, he thought, she wouldn’t do. He didn’t want her body. He didn’t want to inhabit the drained, fledgling Augur… he needed _blood_.

He needed…

The slug turned his dimmed gaze to the boy. With the last of his strength, he began his lurching slump toward Peter once more.

That was the body he could use. The shade knew that he could heal it.

Peter didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. The squelching impacts drew closer, reverberating through the metal beneath.

“Marie… _please_ …” he prayed. He hoped.

But Marie was still. Not even the rise of breath moved her form. The beat of life went silent, and the body grew colder and colder and—

A hand of billowing black, far larger than the shade, reached down from the shadows above. The shade was powerless as the dark fingers scooped it up. For a second, the shade screamed, fearing death… but as the massive hand gently cradled it in its palm, the shade began to wonder.

With a flick of the wrist, the sickle-like claws of the dark hand clamped around the shade’s body, wringing fountains of blood from his jaws and wounds.

Once the slug of a shade was wrung out, the dark hand tossed him aside, the body flying to the other end of the cage with an unceremonious _splat_.

The shades body seemed to vanish into thin air.

Peter watched quietly as the massive hand receded. A familiar growl emanated from above him in the unknowable darkness.

And then—the boy knew for sure that he had lost his mind to the pain and horror now—a _book_ descended.

It hovered gracefully over to Marie, angling its front facing (and what appeared to be a crude face) to inspect the girl’s features.

The book opened itself, splaying deep red pages.

The black ichor wrung free of the shade had pooled on the floor, and now it began to lift up, carried on currents unseen. It swirled around and drew inside the book’s fanning pages, the letters igniting with strange symbols effulgent… just like the glow of an Augur’s runes…

A deep hum emanated from the center of the Aviary— _from the book_. The tone rose, crescendoing in harmony with the sounds of the vibrating cables encircling.

Once the floor had been drained of blood, the book snapped shut, and the song of the Aviary paused. One beat. And then the book parted again, and the Aviary _sang_.

Soaring melody shimmered through the cold steel as arcs of bright red fanned out and infused themselves into Marie’s body.

Was it light?

Was it blood?

Peter guessed this was what blood magic really was… and somehow, he began to feel better. The beautiful song, the spell, the… _whatever_ it was… was easing the throbs. He could breath full breaths again. His arm still ached, but… he felt _so good_. So at peace… the sounds carried him off, and he lent himself to sleep.

The room was growing light now, lighter than it ever had. The dark depths of the ceiling were visible, and every detail came alive in this brilliant, ethereal light.

Marie’s body grew warm… then _hot_. Her body was _boiling_ from within. She cried out in pain, clutching at her heart as it wished to burst.

She opened her eyes.

The world was snow white.

She heard… the tones of healing; the majesty of the Aviary.

A tremendous presence bore down on Marie’s chest, ensnaring her heart. Something vast… so _impossibly_ vast… was trained on herself _alone_. Like the ocean focused on the head of a needle.

She couldn’t breathe.

Red letters danced around, and the runes carved into her skin throbbed, threatening to burst and bleed afresh as if they had just been burned into her.

Just as she thought she could bear it no longer, the light faded, and once again she could grasp shape and form.

Marie’s eyes focused, crystal-clear. A dead metal mask of golden hue was the first thing she saw. The expression of its decoration was forever twisted into a tormented scream.

The Grimoire…

Its features glistened with deep, time-scarred gold over darkest, muddled ruby.

_The Grimoire…!?_

Marie picked herself up, scouting around the Aviary cage. Thoughts clambered one over the other: Where was the shade? Where was Peter? Where was…?

_THE GRIMOIRE._

She stared directly at it, the being staring at her with black slits where eyes might have been.

Marie’s gaze darted aside. Peter was slumped against the side of the cage. The slug of a shade was nowhere to be seen.

Had the Grimoire…? Then why weren’t they also…?

Marie had no idea what to do.

The only time she had ever seen the book, it had slain a man in the blink of an eye. Marie dared not move, frozen in fear.

The Grimoire hovered backwards as if on cue. Though it never seemed to break its focus, it did allow Marie space to move.

For some indiscernible reason, Marie knew that it was… OK. At least OK enough to move.

She didn’t want to trust this peace, but she _had_ to check on Peter.

Marie scurried over to him, pressing a finger to his neck, gingerly grasping at his wrists. Alive… he was _alive_. Marie breathed out in relief. She had to get him out of this place, and gently jostled him to see if he’d awaken. But he didn’t stir.

Stealing a disturbed glance back at the Grimoire, Marie took Peter into her arms, staggering to her feet. Her calf screamed against her, demanding rest. Yet no blood or poison ichor seeped from the wound. It was freshly healed, a fractal-patterned scar gleaming in its place.

The young Augur pressed on despite her body’s yearning for a reprieve.

This was taking too long.

Marie began to drag Peter, hoping she did not injure his arm further. But as she twisted him around, she found his arm did not bend so impossibly.

Had the Grimoire also…?

But it was… She had seen it eat prisoners whole. How could that thing…?

Marie shook the thought, continuing to drag Peter out. But as she shuffled backwards, her shoe caught on a panel that’d lifted from the floor, and she tumbled backwards.

Peter roused, mumbling incoherently before he passed out once more.

As Marie rolled back up to her feet she saw the Grimoire approach, hovering toward her slowly with a gentle hum. Marie’s heart quickened, and as soon as the Grimoire opened itself, she staggered back, exclaiming.

A series of dark tendrils laced out of the Grimoire’s pages, each layering over the other and scooping under the boy’s body to cradle him, carrying him toward the exit. With finesse and dexterity in magic the girl had never seen before, the Grimoire gently threaded the boy through the Aviary’s cage walls and deposited him on the ground. Not once did Peter stir in its grasp, Marie noted.

She turned to face the Grimoire, standing at her full height.

Marie had no idea what to say. She didn’t know how to process this. Did she say thank you…? Did she—

A sharp snap and the hiss of electricity seized Marie’s thoughts. She flinched away from the Grimoire, instinctively, but realized this was no attack. Or… at least not on the Grimoire’s part.

An arc of electricity flew from another’s beings fingertips.

“Mom?!” Marie cried.

The _true_ Augur had arrived.

“Get OUT of there!” the woman called as her own runes seared with light.

The Grimoire fell to the floor, rattling and floundering in the torturous embrace of the hot current.

Marie was entranced, and a phantom tingling filled her body, electrifying it.

“NOW!” her mother called again as her blood burned while casting such violent magic.

Marie snapped out of it and fled the Aviary cage, stumbling through the taught cables toward Peter’s side.

Her mother advanced, holding the electrical current steady on the Grimoire, weaving it with sheer determination through the steel wires and rungs crossing all around her. She reached the barrier of the Aviary, and in one motion, she let slip the spell and raked her fingers down the gash, sealing it up once more.

The Grimoire rested on the ground, incapacitated completely from the sudden overload of energy. Perhaps it was even dead, but that didn’t matter to the Augur—or rather, to Marie’s _mother_.

She turned around, fury paining her worn features.

“What were you thinking?” she asked in a snarl.

Marie looked up from Peter’s limp and smiling body.

“Uh…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If children being attacked by monsters and then retaliating by becoming even scarier monsters isn't peak Nier content, then I don't know what is.


	2. Fools' Errand

Nier had spent all morning admiring his new mask. He kept going over the rivets, the leather work, and how it fit the contours of his face so succinctly.

It had just been finished, and he’d only had the morning to break it in and wear it around. It was a bit sweaty, and weird, but he liked it! He was sure this would help keep his remaining eye secure, and also, it made him look _fiercer_.

He hoped no one had seen him growling at his reflection in the fountain earlier, though. There were already rumors that he’d gone insane. He couldn’t afford to get thrown out of town.

He’d taken it off and returned to wearing his eye-patch while working around the house.

Nier was sharpening _Beastlord_ when he caught sight of Weiss returning from his errands in the market. Nier set the blade aside with care and rushed to grab the mask. Discarding his eye-patch, he began strapping the armor on, fussing with his hair as it got tangled in the straps.

“I have acquired the accoutrements we require for Seafront,” Weiss said as he laid them out on the table.

It was mostly weed.

(Antidotal weed.)

“Are you ready or—” Weiss paused as he saw Nier working furiously with his face while angled away from him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and grew suspicious at Nier’s quiet, “what are you doing?”

“Hold on.” Nier swatted at the book, fending him off. “Stay back. I wanna show you something, but I gotta get it right.”

“And what could this be?” Weiss lingered behind him as told, glowering as Nier fumbled to control his wild mane.

Weiss waited a good minute, huffing, “are you done yet?”

“Wait!”

Weiss let out a beleaguered sigh.

And then, Nier turned around, and Weiss was quite… speechless.

Well, Nier’s smile was stunning, and the man even struck what was intended to be a heroic pose, with his chest out and jawline set just-so. But all Weiss could focus on was the black thing smothering nearly all of his face.

“So,” Nier asked saucily, “whaddaya think?”

Weiss squinted. “Is this the new eye-patch?”

“Well, yeah, kinda…?” Nier deflated slightly, but tried not to lose heart. “But also a mask. It’s like armor for my face. It should help deflect things away from my one good eye.”

“Oh,” Weiss replied, “I see.”

Nier searched him, and cleared his throat.

“Uh… do you… like it?”

Weiss tilted a degree before he spoke, “well, it is certainly… finely crafted. And… quite large. And on your face.”

“You don’t like it.” His pose slumped.

“I didn’t say that!” Weiss snapped, “I’m just bad with change, you know!”

“I think its cool,” Nier turned away slightly, explaining, “I had it especially shaped to my face. I even helped design it.”

Weiss wavered a little, uncomfortable. “Ah, yes! And it does show! Very good work. I’m sure you spent a fortune.”

Nier gave the book a sidelong _look_ as he turned around completely.

“So what, I’m not terribly enthused? I’m just one opinion, Nier!” Weiss tried to appeal to him, chuckling nervously, “there’s no need to be upset!”

Nier fixed him with a scowl. “Do I look upset?”

The question was so utterly ridiculous Weiss couldn’t say anything. Nier was so impossibly crestfallen, it was as if Weiss had beaten an adolescent seal to death in front of him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nier adjusted his mask, stating solemnly, “it’s about function anyway.”

Weiss was about to scream.

The tome was fairly certain Nier failed every beauty standard known to man, but to him, at least, it was quite fun tracing the fine shining scars on his skin as they wound round and down into his musculature.

The mask just got in the way! It was covering all of his face! And his nose! That was the worst bit! He had a very strong nose! Weiss liked it. It was a good nose, he thought. Very nose-y.

Suddenly the tome became very aware that he himself did not possess a nose. Why did he not have a nose? Was it a superfluous feature humans had developed, like hair and legs? Had grimoires evolved beyond noses?!

Weiss digressed. Back to Nier’s mask…

There were benefits of it being armor. He was glad he had some form of facial protection. A helmet would’ve served better, though.

Weiss wasn’t sure how Nier hadn’t died of a concussion yet. But then again, not a lot made sense in their world… like how weed could cure poisonous afflictions so quickly.

Nier had meanwhile been sorting through what Weiss had bought, making a face at the abundance of weed.

“So, anyway. Are you ready for another round of Seafront?” Weiss inquired.

Nier didn’t like that wording, for personal reasons, mostly. “ _Yeah…_ You?”

“I have the rest of the items that we need in here.” Weiss fluttered his pages, referring to the objects stored within him by mystical and convenient grimoire powers.

“Great,” Nier said, and then gestured to the supplies, “I’ll get the rest of this.”

Nier was adamant about carrying his fair weight, and stuffed the sizable load in his travel pack.

As the man turned his back to grab his weapons of choice, Weiss sneaked over to the pack, a dark tendril extending from his pages and burrowing inside.

He appreciated the notion that Nier wished to shoulder all his own supplies, but such a sentiment was dangerous! Nier, being only human, risked sprain and injury when he hauled that much around while climbing and crawling through the brush as he did. Weiss wasn’t forced to strut across the ground, so he was freer to take on more of the load.

And so, the Grimoire extracted a few of the heavier supplies from Nier’s packing and enveloped them within himself, the objects becoming as a magic coding and lacing his pages with information.

Weiss was careful, flitting from the pack as soon as Nier had his beloved _Beastlord_ affixed to himself within its sheathing.

Nier swung the pack over a shoulder and latched it onto his back straps. He tugged on it, noticing how _light_ it was.

He turned a knowing smirk to the book and reached out, ruffling the top of Weiss’ pages.

“…wh—don’t pet me! I am not a dog! I am—”

Nier talked over his companion’s griping, “let’s get going. The sky’s clear. Day’s ripe for traveling.”

“…indeed,” Weiss grumped, but nonetheless carried along after the man.

They left the house, traveling through the valley and into the market.

“It’s not every day we get a lead like this,” Nier said as they passed through the unusually quiet streets.

“Indeed it is not,” Weiss couldn’t not agree, considering the lead they’d gained by means of a curiously inviting letter from Seafront. “Though we had best exercise caution. Honeyed words often mask vile intentions.”

“I’ll be cautious.” Nier winked at him.

“You’re laughing now, but you know how these exploits usually end,” Weiss warned him.

“If it’s a trap we’ll just kill ‘em all or solve the mystery or whatever like we always do,” Nier tried to make his friend feel better, “simple as that.”

“Mmm, simple as that,” Weiss feigned a pleasant demeanor, his words saccharine, “I’m sure by the end of this you wont be a bloody pulp and we and our new friends will all be having tea and biscuits on the beach.”

“Sounds delicious!” Nier replied, stubbornly maintaining a positive attitude.

Weiss let the matter go, merely humming pensively.

The two ceased their banter, passing through the south gates and into the wilderness beyond. Much headway was made as the sky kept scathingly blue.

The southern grasslands rippled as the winds off the ocean skimmed over it. Vegetation clung defiantly to the rising backs of the coastline’s crags, bowed forever inland by the constant currents blowing off the waters beyond.

As they passed through the clots of trees which trailed through the vales, the fleeting specters of deer wove between the trunks. Yet more creatures laced through the boughs above, the forests still thrumming with the heartbeat of life.

The steady cadence of Nier’s steps combined with the breathing gusts of wind lulled Weiss into a meditative state, a kind reprieve from his usual bustling thoughts.

Of course the peace couldn’t last, as a niggling doubt squirmed through those pages.

Weiss went over the letter that had incited their trip yet again. Just to be safe.

It read:

_Greetings be to the Ineffable Grimoire Weiss and Mister Nier,_

_I, Philip, am speaking on behalf of the renowned hero and resident of Seafront, Cormorant. It has come to our attention that adventurers of your caliber would be most suited to aid the hero Cormorant in a hunt for a lost treasure that is said to “map the Darkness with Points of Light”. Popola has informed us that you are in search of such a treasure, perchance._

_This treasure that maps the dark is held within a place of likewise darkness. Therein may linger shades, which is where we will need assistance. However, once these foes are vanquished the map we may attain will be yours to keep. Cormorant’s heart lies not in the possession of this treasure, but in its pursuit and the illumination it may bring. I implore you to consider our offering, and await your reply or visit eagerly._

_Sincerely,_

_Philip_

There was no return address. _Of course._

How on earth the postmen had delivered this with such an oversight like that was beyond Weiss, but then again, the postmen were notoriously unreliable. Not only were they sloth to keep _The Postman’s Oath_ , but they were sloth in about every other area as well! It drove the Grimoire mad.

Weiss had Nier take the mysterious letter to Devola and Popola for insight into this yet unverified “famous hero Cormorant”. The twins seemed to know the person (naturally, since they knew most often _everything_ ) and subsequently urged Weiss and Nier to go off on yet another absurd quest.

“You’ll like Cor… I think,” Popola had said, oh so _assuringly._

“Cormorant’s group was always fun back when they traveled around and visited us,” Devola recounted, “if you go, tell me how Cor is! I wish I could go out and say hi in person, but… you know. We just keep getting busier in the village these days.”

The notion that this Cormorant was legitimate and also perhaps _friendly_ excited Nier to no end, and he was quick to plot a journey southward. This was to be expected, Weiss admitted. Typically they had to wrest information from the jaws of indomitable dangers. A friendly face would be quite welcome!

The monotonous handwriting style this Philip fellow had was certainly bizarre. Something was off about it all, but the Grimoire just couldn’t parse why.

Weiss wished so desperately that he could believe this, but it was just too good to be true. He could perhaps posit that he was being irrational, but to date, all their adventures had ended so far beyond his worst imaginations that it would take a re-alignment of the heavens to convince him he was being a _pessimist_.

In the end, it didn’t matter. All he could do was be vigilant and hope they weren’t traipsing into death yet agai—

Weiss bumped into the back of Nier’s pauldron, shaking himself a bit as he re-oriented.

“Nier…?”

The man had frozen, mid-step, his head turning as he scanned his surroundings.

Weiss hadn’t been paying attention, truly. He had simply been letting himself follow in Nier’s metaphysical wake. (His ancient arcane text told him that this function was… automatic following.)

They were in the midst of a forest which the path to Seafront wound through. The trees grew dense here, providing shade, and the twisting underbrush reached for the road, roots clutching the dirt underfoot as if to reclaim the territory stolen.

Nier raised himself up, alert, sensing movement to his flanks.

Weiss drew his spells to the fore.

Ripples of magic laced around the trunks of the trees. This was not the Grimoire’s own, but magic from something _other_.

Whisperings filtered through the trees. The buffets of wind turned sour, and the living din amongst the flora was pierced by shrill shade-screams.

Nier cast aside his belongings, and his hand was already upon the hilt of _Beastlord_. The raking of metal was deliberate as its length was drawn, slow and smooth as Nier sunk into a defensive stance. His ears pricked at the padding of shade paws through the brush.

The darkness of the forest had grown more severe, as if all the leaves had knit together overhead, leaving not a drop of sunlight.

“Left!” Weiss called out, and a flash of sickly yellow sprung from the growth.

Leaves kicked up and the _Beastlord_ arced through the shadows, slicing through air.

Nier carried on the momentum, spinning around and slashing across the deep dark. Blade bit into blood, a shower cascaded as the shade’s screams strangled to a whimper.

Shades from behind lunged from all fours, aiming armored claws for flesh. A fan of brilliant red magic illuminated the host as it skewered them through. Before the blood hit the ground, it incorporated into the spires of letter and ink until the spires’ size burst the shades from inside out. Clotted clumps hit the earth, dissolving into the soil.

A gathering of shades rushed toward Nier. He slammed his blade down, the magic in the air emboldening his strength so that the ground cracked and caved at the crash of _Beastlord._ The shock wave flung the smaller foes back.

"Behind you!" Weiss alerted Nier.

More shades arrived, carried on the air. These strode tall, far taller than Nier himself, and brandished mauls made of their own unraveling flesh.

The man slipped the blows from these pillars of black, sliding across dead leaves. The must of decay and bitter iron dominated.

He hauled _Beastlord_ over shoulder, and the lion-head embellishment quenched its fangs as it slid through the shades he struck.

Nier’s sword stopped as it cleaved through the length of another foe. Blood spurted in pulses, its body racked with infernal cries. Nier wrenched his sword and carved an ugly rut down ‘til it severed the shade in two.

Another and another fell, gurgling through their own bile.

All around the bodies faded from view, leaving behind pools of glistening liquid from which tempest spouts spun, feeding into the eerie glowing heart of the Grimoire.

Only two more of the ambush remained, loping through the trees, beady eyes fixated on Nier.

The man heaved breaths, circling in turn with them as he sized up their armament. These shades did not possess mere clubs and blades of shadesflesh. They held glinting metal; glinting swords…

They had _weapons_.

One of the shades lunged, a feign to provoke movement so that its cohort could strike Nier as he retaliated.

Their plan was shot down.

A dark lance flew forth and blew into the approaching shades, pinning one to a tree. In the chaos of shattered splinters, Nier took the opportunity to close the distance and lay into the other.

The creature shrieked and brought its guard up, but the effort was too late. _Beastlord_ sunk deep through its slimy chest. Gridwork veins burst and the creature thrashed. A wild swing scraped down _Beastlord’s_ and bucked off the hilt. Nier moved to dodge, but the leaves below gave no traction, and he slipped in place. The shade’s blade struck between his neck and shoulder, carving his flesh.

The shade withered around _Beastlord_ and faded to naught. The weapon which cut Nier slid to the forest floor with a thud.

The shade’s blade laid amidst the stirred leaves, itself a finely forged work of art. Its metal quivered in the darkness, and was eaten up, dissolving just as the wielder.

Nier’s shoulder was alight with pain.

“Shit…” he cursed through his teeth.

Nier rested into _Beastlord_ , using it to prop himself up. He scanned for more shades, for Weiss, and groaned as pain shot through his right side.

“All clear,” Weiss announced, and then hovered down to inspect Nier. He drew back sharply when he saw the wound.

That didn’t make Nier feel better.

“Why don’t we go somewhere a bit brighter?” Weiss suggested.

Nier grunted an agreement and stood up tall, his right arm panging. He remained wary as he took up _Beastlord_ in his good arm and returned to his pack.

Nier glanced over to the tree to which one of the shades had been pinned. There was a spiral-cut hole where the spire of magic had driven in. Black rivulets snaked through the bark; all that remained of the shade.

They journeyed out from beneath the crowding trees and into the brilliance of the sun. Nier’s wound shone vivid ruby in the daylight, and he caught sight of his it running down and absorbing into the lining of his arm guard.

Nier rested upon a rock cropping up from the grasslands, _Beastlord_ laid likewise against the stones. His right side threatened to seize, and he grimaced at every movement he made, water springing up in his eye.

“It’s deep, isn’t it?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, yes,” Weiss didn’t mince words. “If the shade had been cutting with purpose and not aimlessly you may very well be one-armed as well as one-eyed.”

Nier chuckled dryly. “At least my ugly… urgh—” Nier stopped short, pain flaring. “—my ugly mask kept my eye safe, huh?”

“The mask _is_ good for something,” Weiss quipped in a softer tone.

The fact the shades were so well armed had really thrown Nier off, hadn’t it? Nier was hurting too bad to think much more on it, though.

He reached for his pack to grab some bandages and the medicines inside, but Weiss snapped into his ear.

“Leave it.”

Nier acquiesced with a heavy sigh, “…alright.”

“My word,” Weiss muttered as he probed the injury with his magics, “hold still.”

“I know, Weiss… I got sloppy.”

The Grimoire tucked the man’s wild, red-stained hair behind an ear, and set about rejoining the parted flesh, flipping through his own pages.

“You were quite out-numbered…” Weiss spoke as he worked. “I counted nine in all, I believe.”

“Yeah,” Nier confirmed, “you did good, though.”

Weiss hummed an agreement, already into his spell.

A tendril of darkness fed into the wound, and red letters began to dance at the intonations of the book, the wisps of magic threading just beneath the man’s skin.

“They’ve never—” Nier paused as a nerve was struck, “they had swords. Real ones. That’s new.”

Weiss finished a bar of his song, the tissues weaving across the gap.

“Indeed, they did,” Weiss answered.

He gently took Nier’s elbow and nudged his arm up. Nier relaxed at the familiar, soothing tones that emanated from the Grimoire as he worked magic.

It took a little more fussing than usual, but soon the wound closed, and the worst of the pain melted away.

The skin was still raw, however, and Nier fashioned a poultice. Weiss helped him wrap it round, securing it with gauze strips.

“Thanks, Weiss,” Nier’s voice was low. He reached up with his other hand and brushed the book’s spine.

“Of course.”

As Nier strapped up his pack again, Weiss cleaned _Beastlord_ of the blood and gore with a quick pass of a Verse of feasting.

Nier was still ginger with his arm, but managed to get his blade secured without much help from his companion.

“I wonder where shades could acquire armaments as such?” Weiss pondered aloud as they continued their trek.

Nier considered, “maybe the same way we get weapons?”

“Buying them?” Weiss was skeptical.

“No! I meant they found them,” Nier clarified.

“Oh,” Weiss realized, muttering something, “I had not considered them of the mental caliber to find and wield weaponry with such accuracy.”

“If shades know one thing, it’s killing. And if they know two things it’d be killing and _stealing_ ,” Nier’s voice took on a deeper timbre.

Weiss didn’t like where this was going, so he cut him off, “it’s probably a unique phenomenon. I’ll eat my syntax if we find yet more with such blades!”

Nier gave a grunt of agreement and carried on.

Once they were moving again, it wasn’t long until they drew close to the ridges protecting the city of commerce, otherwise known as Seafront. The path meandered down and funneled them into the opening of a cavern passage.

Though this was the final stretch of their journey, tensions rose as the traveled through.

The darkness enveloped the world whole, broken only by the occasional sconce of flame upon the wall. Unfortunately, many of these sconces had fallen unlit. The two leered at deeper shadows, nerves steeling every time they passed through the pools of pitch black between the lights.

Weiss tested the air, conscious of strange elements and particles diabolic. All he sensed, however, was the tang of sea blowing down the corridor of stone.

Thankfully, Nier had no need to bloody his sword again, as billowing pyres of flame marked the endpoint of the trek: the wrought iron bars of Seafront’s main gate.

Defensive supports had been built into the gate and its supports. Salt-weathered beams crossed in trusses so dense that only slivers of light pierced through its once porous, free flowing ornaments.

A solitary voice echoed down the cavern to them from an obscured perch above, “what business have you here?”

Weiss drew forward, projecting his voice thunderously at the guard, “we are here to convene with a person named Cormorant. This is Nier and I am—”

“AH! It’s you!” another voice raised itself, a register higher than the one before, marked by youthful exuberance, “it’s Nier! The shadeslayer!”

Nier took a step back at that. “Uhhh…?”

“ _Shadeslayer…?_ ” Weiss wondered aloud.

“So it is,” the more commanding guard’s voice lost its ominous edge, sounding more sarcastic than anything, “you may pass, _shadeslayer_ _Nier_.”

Weiss called out, “and Grimoire W—”

A large clank from the gate canceled out the Grimoire’s voice.

Metal shuddered as the guards took down the battens on the other side. The gate announced its opening with a shriek, loosing a shaft of white light into the shadowed passage.

Nier and Weiss came forward, stepping through the threshold and onto the cobblestone streets. They could clearly see the new defensive constructions that had also been added to the inside, an impressive amount of timber dedicated to holding shut the one hole in the city’s natural defenses. It was clear the additions were clumsily assembled by those who were confident shipwrights and stonemasons, but were also wholly unfamiliar with the threat of attack by way of land.

Seafront’s main gate swung back into place, the battens set once more into their holds with the heaves and hefts of the men camped around the structures.

Before Nier could pass on, one of the guards walked up to him.

“So this is the merc that everyone’s talking about, huh?” It was the guard who had first greeted them. He gave Nier a once over, withholding acceptance.

This was in stark contrast to the gangly guard beside him who could scarcely contain his excitement, eying the two travelers with utmost intrigue. When Nier got a good view of the other guard, he turned out to be less a man and more of a boy, perhaps only fifteen years of age.

“Not many come on foot these days. You must be tough.” The senior guard gave them a nod of approval.

Before Nier could respond, the younger guard stepped in, “that’s easy for him. He’s killed giant shades!”

Weiss cleared his ‘throat’ loudly, his bobbing jagging sharply to attract the boy’s attention.

“With the help of his flying book, of course!” the boy added, though it was unclear if he picked up on the Grimoire’s annoyance.

“F-flying book!?” Weiss blustered.

“Be nice,” Nier whispered to his companion, “he’s just a kid.”

“Hmph!” Weiss turned his back cover to them all, finding the neighboring walls much more worthy of his attention.

“We’re honored to have you, sir,” the younger guard expressed, thumping a closed fist against the leather chest guard that scarcely fit on his body.

“Thanks?” Nier said sheepishly. He wasn’t used to having _fans_.

“A regular old _hero_ , huh?” The older guard rolled his eyes at the antics. “Well, I wouldn’t keep your fellow ‘hero’ Cor waiting.”

“If you need anything just—” the younger guard offered his aid, but his senior cut him off.

“Quit gawking. Back to your post, boy,” his senior growled, giving the boy an unkind squint.

The other guard scampered back to his rightful place.

“Sorry about this all,” the senior let out a breath, weariness clear in his tone, “we’ve just had reports of travelers being possessed by shades.”

“That’s not good,” Nier responded bluntly.

“Not at all. But the trick to finding them is that they can’t speak all that well, if they can speak at all… but I’d assume you’d know that, _shadeslayer_ ,” the senior guard supplied, bearing only a hint of sarcasm.

“A queer time we live in when shades may walk amongst us,” Weiss observed grimly.

The guard gave him an unkind smile.

“Any road, enjoy your stay. And make sure to kill a few of those inky bastards for me, if you can,” the guard said with finality, and dipped his head before he stalked away.

“Right…” Nier answered before moving along. He was eager to get away. He didn’t like the attention. It was weird.

“So, _you’re_ famous, but I’m not,” Weiss started complaining loudly as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I’m not exactly enjoying the fame, Weiss…” Nier replied.

“Hmmm, yes. Notoriety does have its drawbacks, I suppose. It is definitely odd behavior from this city. Usually we just walk inside and one of the peasant fishmongers sends us on our way. Now they have guards sporting leathers and a reinforced gate. There must’ve been an attack as of late,” Weiss concluded.

“Damn,” Nier said simply, “you’re probably right.”

Weiss dipped to nod. “I’d say this is all unrelated to our current task, but I fear that we’ve never been the ones to miss a good coincidence.”

Nier was genuinely annoyed. “Are you trying to bring us bad luck?”

“Merely observations,” Weiss droned and drifted aside.

Nier shook his head before he continued down the path that emptied out into the main thoroughfare. The spring-fed aqueduct flowed down the way, diving through the congestion of the market stalls and toward the beach. The two walked beside its length, coming to a stop just before the street escaped the shadows of the buildings built into the cliffs above.

All around the city sprawled. White fences, white columns, white plaster… white on every surface imaginable. It was hard to gaze upon the city in the sunlight.

Nier pulled out a crumple of paper from unnervingly deep within his culottes, pawing it open with evident annoyance at the new shadesblood stain blemishing the paper. But even so, he could make out the gist of the directions.

“Popola said this ‘hero’s’ house was near the west side of town…” Nier told Weiss, pointing a finger toward the prominent ridge which defined the northern border of the city and traced down the west end until it ran into the sea, “riiight over there.”

“Well then, sally forth!” Weiss dove forward to gesture.

Nier made a face, amused by the motion, and with a gusto he ‘sallied forth’ through the city and toward the hero’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly forgot writing the weed joke until I started editing this, but it was bound to happen since this was a prominent gag in all of my friend and I's playthroughs of Nier.


	3. Hero Worship

White plaster buildings adorned the coastline like a strand of pearls. Each structure had been crafted by hand, resolute against the treacherous tides of the sea. All around Nier and Weiss they stood, many several stories tall and looming so large their heights shielded them from the sun.

Nier trekked down the road and through the shadows of bridges arching overhead. Weiss followed behind, but kept getting distracted, exploring planter boxes full of sparse blooms and the shimmering, jangling glass and steel of wind chimes. But he never let Nier slip from view, always zipping back before the man rounded a corner.

The bright roads they traveled wove through dark allies at regular intervals, rhythmic in tempo. The orderly maze of buildings were a welcome change to the chaotic state of the wilderness outside.

Seafront was tidy.

Perhaps _too_ tidy…

Nier hadn’t seen but one or two other people haunting the streets. Usually, by this time of the morning, there was a bustle of people carrying on. Yet where people once milled, silence stood.

None of that was of Nier’s concern, however. He continued following the map doggedly through the city’s residences. After a while he got a funny feeling and stopped. He scouted around, spinning in place at least thrice to take everything in.

_Crap._ He’d made a giant loop through the city.

“Where is this place?” Nier wondered aloud.

“As if I’d know,” Weiss replied.

Nier hummed, his face growing stern as a realization brewed.

“Wait a second,” Nier said, “you do know! You mapped this place. Remember?”

Weiss’ eyes slimmed, and he listed sideways as he tried to recall.

Nier groaned with impatience, and perhaps some concern. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Mmm, no. I never mapped this town…” Weiss answered to the contrary, “we _purchased_ a map. And then you lost it.”

“How?!”

“You were adamant about ‘ _carrying your own weight’_ on that fateful day,” Weiss recalled, _“do you remember_ getting caught in that quicksand, mmm? A certain pack containing a map didn’t come back out.”

“Urgh…” Nier made an intelligent noise as he recognized he didn’t have anyone else to blame for it. “Well, damn. We’re lost.”

Weiss pivoted in the air beside him. “If only all the buildings here didn’t look the same, then we might have a clue. One would think that such monotonous architecture would grow tiresome for people who have to stare at that big flat stretch of water every day.”

“…the _ocean?_ ”

“Yes. That,” Weiss remarked dismissively.

Nier shook his head. “Well, maybe they don’t have enough money to make their houses look different from one another,” he offered with a sigh, scouring about, “they built one and then just kept copying it.”

“Why don’t humans make sense?” Weiss lamented.

“This _map_ doesn’t make any sense,” Nier put away the crumple of paper, deciding, “we’re just gonna walk around until we find the house.”

“Ah, the classic strategy,” Weiss quipped, content to orbit around the man as they searched.

Nier gave his companion a squint _look_.

Weiss relished being completely unhelpful.

“… _or_ we’ll find someone to ask,” Nier mentioned, “I’m sure if Cormorant’s famous enough to get Devola and Popola’s attention the name will be notorious in town. Those guards probably know something.”

Weiss agreed with a hum. “Excellent idea! Let us go ask your little fan boy if he knows.”

Nier didn’t find the teasing amusing. “No.”

“And why not? Afraid he’ll want your autograph?” Weiss’ kept on, “you’ve an image to maintain now.”

“Stop that,” Nier warned, and turned away, wandering off… somewhere. Just anywhere but close to Weiss’ subtle grin.

A breeze quieted Nier’s fuming as it gusted down the streets, heavy with the scent of that big flat stretch of water (the ocean).

The winds caused a chiming clatter of dozens of multicolored bottles of glass clinking together. Every door stoop had a bundle of the glasses hanging near, some cradling items or letters, but most were empty and waiting to be filled.

In contrast to the chimes and chatter echoing down the alleys there came approaching footsteps.

Nier rounded, frowning at what he saw.

“Hey, um… excuse me!?”

It was the young guard, rushing up to greet them. He nearly tripped over his own legs as he came to a stop before the two, and offered a feverish smile.

“So, uh, this is maybe a little strange but…” the boy began, trying to keep calm, “but I overheard you guys as I was walking by, and uh… do you need… directions or… anything? ‘cause, funny thing, that’s part of my job, you know. So…” He stopped and chuckled nervously.

Nier crossed his arms and loomed over him, his expression severe as he thought about his answer. As Nier took his time, oblivious, terror dawned upon the boy’s features. It looked like he might just cry.

With a sigh of exasperation, Weiss answered, “yes, we are quite lost. You see, the _unconquerable_ shadeslayer Nier is terrible at keeping maps and—”

“Alright, alright!” Nier spoke up, finally, “I could use a hand getting somewhere, but aren’t you on duty at the gate?” Nier wondered if the boy had left his post.

“I’m on break,” the boy answered quickly.

“Conveniently,” Weiss grumbled.

“Yeah, it’s a stroke of luck!” he added without guile. “So… you said something about old Cor, yeah?”

Nier nodded. “Yeah. Cormorant. A town hero, I heard?”

“For sure,” the boy agreed, “Cormorant’s just like you, Nier! A monster slayer! Has a big weapon called _Thundervalor_. It brings down shades with a crack of lightning and thunder! Not as big as the _Beastlord_ , though.”

Nier nodded along.

_Wait, how did this kid know the name of his sword?_

The boy kept rattling off details, “Cor’s got one of the houses that’s built _into_ the cliffs. Two stories AND a courtyard! It’s amazing,” he hyped it up, and they could begin to see that the directions part of the young guard’s job was perhaps his favorite, “I’ll show you right to it!”

“Many thanks.” Nier’s face finally softened with gratitude, and the boy lit up in response.

Chipper in demeanor, the guard led them along, walking backwards part of the time.

“Right this way, right this way, gentlemen…” he said with a cordial flair.

Nier and Weiss passed a few glances between themselves. The antics were endearing to Nier, but Weiss seemed a tad peeved despite humoring the child.

After a few minutes, the boy spoke up, “oh, uh, by the way… my name is Thumbs!”

“ _Thumbs?_ Well, I suppose that is better than being called _Nostrils_ or _Elbows_ or some such,” Weiss droned, unimpressed.

The boy quickly disregarded himself, “er… actually my name is _Tom_ , but… you can call me either. Thumbs is just my nickname.”

Nier played along, “nice to meet you, Thumbs.”

The boy beamed at that, turning around and navigating through a few twisting bends. Slowly they were finding their way back to the seaside cliffs.

“You know, this Cormorant is pretty crazy,” Thumbs commented as they walked, “I heard that old Cor sailed to the land where there is no sun! Can you imagine, a land of _complete_ darkness? And did it with a crew of only a few.”

“…wow,” Nier remarked, feigning awe for the boy’s sake.

“Have _you_ been there? The Night Kingdom?” Thumbs asked him curiously.

“No.” Nier shook his head. “Never sailed before.”

“Really?!”

“Well, there was this time I was stuck on a fishing boat for a while,” Nier mentioned hesitantly, the mere conjuring of the memory bitter, “but we didn’t go to another land or anything.”

“Ohhh, well, the furthest I’ve been is to the Aerie. That place is spooky!”

“You’re right,” Weiss agreed deeply, “it is certainly not a welcome place for strangers.”

“No. It isn’t,” Nier added solemnly. “Don’t go back there.”

“Yeah. I don’t plan on it. I only ever got to see it from below. The river running from the port here connects to the river in the Aerie’s gorge. Crazy, right?” and then Thumbs added, “the whole thing looks like a web from below. Never seen the villagers up close, but I kinda feel like spider people live up on the cliffs.”

The other two chuckled at that.

“ _Spider people…_ ” Weiss repeated, amused by the images this spawned, “you are not far off, child.”

He wondered what Kainé would make of such a joke… It was strange to not know.

Nier got a glint in his eye and humored Thumbs, posing a question, “ever heard of a city named Façade?”

“Wait, the desert city?” he replied with excitement, nearly stumbling over a cobblestone.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been?”

“ _A lot.”_

Thumbs’ eyes widened a touch.

“Wow!”

“It’s a great place. Maybe not to live, considering all the rules they keep,” Nier shrugged, but he couldn’t stop his voice from glowing, “but there are good people there.”

“All the way out in the desert…” Thumbs marveled, his voice growing distant as he wondered.

“Wanna hear a little of it?” Nier inquired, his pace slowing.

Thumbs quirked a brow, unsure of what that meant.

Nier stopped and responded by speaking in the tongue of Façade, “∝✩@&✽※.”

Thumbs’ mouth opened slightly as he tried to puzzle out what Nier had uttered.

He tipped his head. “What was that you said?”

“I said _hello_ in their language,” Nier answered.

“Oh! Well, then uh…” Thumbs mangled the words as he parroted, “∝✩… @&※…?”

“Close, but you forgot the ✽,” Nier corrected him softly.

“Oh, whoops,” Thumbs laughed it off, flushing with color. Before anything else could be said, he started leading them forward once more, keeping his face pointed away.

On second thought, now that Nier had talked to him, he began to think that the kid couldn’t be more than thirteen. It was the way he pranced forward, arms swinging in a childish manner unbecoming how his body had stretched tall and into the frame of a man… He had such a zest for adventure, too.

Nier steeled his face.

It seemed like the senior guards kept the kid to street duty, but eventually, shades would attack and—

Nier wondered how the boy had ended up in this position. A fear began to bloom, chilling his blood.

Surely, it was just the times. But he couldn’t help but wonder… Did he, or people like him and this Cor figure, have something to do with it…?

Nier suddenly didn’t know what to say. His throat was knotted up.

This kid was probably the same age that Yonah would be by now.

“Well, we’re here!” the boy announced serenely, gesturing to Cormorant’s domain.

Nier blinked his eye heavily, inhaling sharply as he tried to clear his head.

The house was shadowed by the cliffs above, its depths tunneling into the rock face. Moss trickled down the building’s outward, off-white walls. Vines twirled through the gaps of an elegant frieze, into which columns of stone connected, enriching the outside of the structure through graceful, living contours. The shutters of the windows were flung open, revealing salt-sprayed mosaics of red and gold. There was a gate, slightly rusted and hanging ajar, which allowed entry to the modest courtyard. The area was quietly secluded… to the point of dereliction. Cobblestones were overrun by the unkempt hedges lining the round, and a few piles of unused pavers and pots were stacked around on the benches dotting the area, each of which probably hadn’t been sat on for a decade.

“This is the house?” Nier asked his guide, pointing up at the buildings impressive height.

“Yep!” Thumbs confirmed.

Weiss scanned the building. It was quite voluminous and stately despite its disrepair. “Certainly appears to be a hero’s house… reminds me a bit of the manor outside your city, child.”

Thumbs nodded, “it does look like that. Some say the same architects built the two buildings a long time ago.”

Nier watched Weiss’ expression shift from its normal disinterest to a slight horror.

“Oh…” Weiss gave the house a much more wary glance.

Thumbs shrugged, leaning on the rusted fence. “I don’t know about all that. I’m just glad this one doesn’t have man-eating spiders outside.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Weiss responded, a nervous edge already taking hold of his voice.

“You’ve been a big help, kid,” Nier acknowledged the young guard, patting his shoulder.

Thumbs jumped at that, flushing at the contact and earnestness.

“N-no problem!” he replied, “it’s the least I can do! And also my, uh, my job…”

“Well, you did a good job,” Nier said, offering a smile.

“Oh, thanks!” Thumbs voice cracked, further embarrassing him. “I just, uh, I pray that your hunts go well, s-slayer… Nier…” he put his hands together as if to pray, and then realized how silly that probably looked, and dropped the stance.

“ _God, they’re gonna murder me…”_ he mentioned under his breath.

“Goodbye!” Thumbs said suddenly, and excused himself, but not before he bowed to Nier.

After making the ‘hero’ Nier greatly uncomfortable, he turned away and walked briskly back the way they’d come.

The two could hear him giddily repeating the Façade-phrase ∝✩@&✽※ over and over, each further attempt worse than the last, until he slipped out of view and earshot.

“I’d no idea that they recruited _children_ into their ranks,” Weiss remarked wistfully, having forgotten his fear for a time, “I wish him nothing but the best.”

Nier frowned.

“Every day there’s less of us and more of… _them_ ,” he grit his teeth.

The visualization of a shadowy foe was palpable, crossing their link and invading Weiss’ mind as it taunted Nier’s.

“Let’s go,” Weiss prompted him, leading onward to the house that he very much would rather not go to… but what else was there to do?

The great Grimoire Weiss could stomach another haunted mansion. Maybe.

Nier cleared his head and marched up the vine-covered steps to the hero’s house. He gave the double arched doors a once over before he knocked. It took a moment, and in the quiet, his eyes traced over the blue-green patina on the door’s decorations.

This certainly was the most intriguing house he’d seen in the city, full of imagination that the rest of the city lacked. He pondered idly what sort of odd person would answer.

A shuffling sound filtered out to them, and the double doors creaked as they were pulled back.

A man, tall as Nier himself (though only half as wide) had been summoned from the dingy depths. His clothes were crisp cool, gray tones and his hair had been painstakingly pomaded. Its black color held sharp contrast to his ghostly pallor. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of Nier, his skin moving in a most unnatural way.

Nier was scrutinized greatly, much like how one might savor a wine.

The man in the doorway went down his mental checklist:

Big and burly? _Yes._

Signature leathers? _Of course._

Terrible hairdo? _Absolutely._

A Grimoire of fine silver ornamentation floating beside? _Eternally._

The greatsword was a bit bigger than expected. But he was certain that the old warrior would be able to heft it just fine.

“Perfect!” The man clasped his hands together. “Just as I… thought. Yes.”

“Huh?” Nier was at a loss.

So was Weiss. He was so peeved by the man’s rudeness that he dared float closer than several yards to the _most-definitely-wretched-and-haunted-house_.

“We need to speak with… erm, _someone_ concerning the letter we received!” Weiss informed the man curtly.

“Ah, yes. Forgive me. It has been a while,” the man fell back on the procedure of proper graces, “I am Philip. Please, come—”

“ARE THERE GUESTS AT THE DOOR, PHILIP?” a rather loud voice bellowed down the way.

The man’s smile fell.

“…pardon me,” Philip said serenely, and then slammed the doors.

The thunderous _CLANG_ hit Nier, the word ‘ _wait’_ dying on his lips. The door remained closed for a minute. Nothing could be seen or heard.

Weiss was shivering. Not in fear, but in outrage.

“Uh…” Nier grasped at nothing, wondering aloud, “was that a woman?”

“It seems so! A very rude woman! And a very rude man!” the Grimoire spoke with complete disdain, “what is it with this town and ill-mannered people?! I’ve had it, Nier!”

“Maybe they’re just…” Nier couldn’t think of anything nice to say so he stopped it right there.

This _was_ pretty rude, even by Nier’s standards. He reached forward to knock again, but as he did, the doors flew open. Nier and Weiss staggered backwards, gasping with surprise.

In the doorway _she_ stood. Her posture was rugged as driftwood and her skin a dark bronze. Though the woman’s wiry curls were grizzled silver, she couldn’t have been a great deal older than Nier himself. Rows of lines surrounded her eyes, yet their deep-brown depths were still sharp as talons.

She put her shoulder forward, almost crouching as she surveyed the both of them, up and down twice over, appraising their features in turn.

“Hmmm,” she subjected them to a few more moments of her scrutiny, and finally concluded, “…what a handsome couple!”

“Wait—”

“What?!”

She swung around as if their following would be a given.

“Come in!” She beckoned without even looking back.

“Uh…” Nier glanced to and fro, unsure what to do.

“COME IN!” She repeated, a little surlier. “I’ve not all the time in the world.”

Nier and Weiss gingerly complied, giving Philip an awkward acknowledgment as he waited patiently beside the entry. Philip flashed them a pinched smile, bearing slightly unnaturally close-together, gray-toned teeth.

They moved inside, and not a minute later they heard the doors slam shut again.

“Excuse the noise, the hinges need an oiling,” Philip called after them.

Nier and Weiss exchanged glances.

“So, you’re here!” the woman said to them, “that means the letter worked, and I’m glad it did. I was almost fed up waiting.”

“The letter… _worked_?” Weiss inquired.

“You are floating right here before me, aren’t ya?” she seemed very pleased with the fact, smug, even.

“OK…?” Nier shuffled his sandals realizing that he was standing on a tattered but lavishly patterned, foreign rug of deep sapphire and silver.

“Anyhow, welcome!” the woman began to make introductions, her open armed gesture sweeping… while also revealing that half of the buttons on her double-breasted vest were undone.

“Ah, one moment,” she muttered, re-buttoning them quickly over her undershirt.

On closer inspection, _all_ of the woman’s attire appeared to be thrown on in a rush. Her blue sash was left hanging from her utility belt in haphazard loops, she had a boot unlaced, and one of her sleeves was rolled up while the other was completely down.

She did sport a pair of beige culottes, a style choice which Nier could appreciate. Hers weren’t quite as short as his own, being long enough to reach below the knees.

Weiss had meanwhile turned his focus to their new environment, and found that the most striking feature of the Seafront home was the extreme build-up of _stuff_. And not just regular stuff, but _old-world stuff_.

Books, piles and piles, overflowed from bookshelves, mingling with the remains of wheeled contraptions, containers full of jostled chimes, keys, and small knick-knacks. There were musical instruments (most prominent of all a harp) and medical instruments, hat-boxes and coat-racks, a whole pantry of strange earthen vessels, an old water-glider leaned up against an out-of-place wardrobe, and a mask with matching poncho from Façade hanging from a corner. These were only what Weiss could absorb from the mess.

“Someone got around…” Weiss muttered under his breath.

“Seafront’s a trading port,” Philip spoke up, “all manner of item can be found in cities such as this.”

Weiss darted away, his muffled yelp drawing Nier’s attention. The Grimoire was taken by surprise at how close Philip had crept up behind him without his knowing.

_Did the man even breathe?_

“Ah,” Weiss answered queasily.

In but one moment of distraction, the two had completely lost the woman in the clutter, and only detected her via her movements. They caught her reaching over a crate to one of the racks, snatching a garment off with a flick of the wrist.

She slung the gold-trimmed ruby capelet over her shoulders, finishing dressing herself finally.

“Alright, where were we…? Oh, yes,” she reoriented herself and cleared her throat.

“I am Cormorant!” her voice sang, barreling around the vestibule’s high ceiling. She then turned a bright smile to the taller man beside her, clapping him on the shoulder as she announced, “and this here is my right hand man, Philip!”

Philip waved lifelessly.

“Nice to meet you?” Nier offered meagerly, still busy taking in the rich abundance of surroundings.

The home smelled of dust, though a scent of something herbal brewing interlaced, bringing with it a sense of nostalgia.

“Now, many people might’ve called me a hero for some blasted reason,” Cormorant muttered, missing how Philip groaned. “Well, to you two, I’m just an old adventurer who’s too dumb to retire.”

“Great,” Nier was at a loss for words, “that’s… great.”

“I’m Nier,” he said and patted his chest, and then gestured to Weiss. “This is Weiss. I think you know this?”

“That is _Grimoire_ Weiss!” the tome cried out, his voice wheezing from duress, “for the LAST TIME, you shall use my FULL and PROPER NAME. So help me!”

“Excuse him, he doesn’t like… _houses_ ,” Nier apologized for the elderly book’s sudden outburst.

“‘ _EXCUSE HIM_ ’?!” Weiss fumed.

Nier winced with discomfort, but Cor found it all the more amusing.

“You ever seen a cormorant bird, Grimoire Weiss?” she asked the book, side-tracking his fury.

“Uh, erm, well… I-I’ve seen birds!” Weiss stuttered, defensive. He didn’t know if he should be offended or inquisitive. The fact that she’d used his full name was a little stunning. She didn’t seem the ingratiating type…

“But have you seen a _cormorant_?!” she asked again, retaining a jovial spirit.

Weiss backed up. “Erm…”

“It’s the bird I’m named after. An odd looker, for sure, with a hooked beak and short wings and piercing eyes! It wings along shores I suspect neither of you’ve seen,” she assumed, “I have a picture of the creature… _somewhere_ around here.”

Nier and Weiss watched as Cor went ahead without their say. She procured a scrap of paper from the mess and handed it to Weiss. The Grimoire was befuddled, having never been actually approached before by a stranger. He cautiously manifested a dark hand and gripped the paper. On it was the crude illustration of a hook-billed bird with short, sea-worthy wings and elegant plumage.

“Hm, it’s eyes _are_ rather piercing…” Weiss remarked.

“Did you know it can dive underwater?” Cor added.

“ _Tch!_ I doubt that.”

“It’s true, it can swim like a fish!”

“…truly?!”

“That’s nice… Birds are… uh, good,” Nier tried to course-correct the conversation, “anyway, I’m just here to try to find the Shadowlord.”

Cormorant tore her gaze away from the dark hand clutching the paper, her focus returned to Nier.

“Single minded. I like that,” she mentioned, “I’ve heard of your feats. It’s impressive how quickly you carved a name for yourself, Nier. The kids around here call you _shadeslayer_. Givin’ me competition!” Cormorant guffawed at her own words.

“Uh, well… thanks…?” Nier rubbed at his neck. “I just kill stuff, mostly.”

Cor’s smile never wavered. “It’s a part of life.”

That wasn’t exactly the response Nier had expected. “Yeah?”

“You try to do it for the right reasons,” Cormorant said, “that’s all a person can do.”

Nier thought the logic wasn’t quite sound in that statement, but was too confused to argue.

“Besides, you ain’t got time to fuss with that when you have to find your daughter… correct?” Cormorant added a knowing nod.

Nier snapped to attention, his stance lowering defensively. “How did you…?!”

“I know Popola. She’s a GAB!” Cormorant replied breezily, “talked all about you. I had to tell her to stop.”

“Oh. Uh...” Nier balked, standing up straight again.

Popola had said that Cor knew her and Devola. It was easy to imagine them being on close terms. He just didn’t expect Cormorant to be so up to date. No telling what Popola had relayed to this woman.

“You do know your dangerous job drives her up the wall, right?” Cor smirked at the jab, but carried on without a response, “anyhow, we were corresponding a lot recently. The books in my collection were to be incorporated into the library at your very village. But then that damned shade monstrosity…”

Cor stopped herself, “I heard a certain _slayer_ felled that beast.”

“…yeah. It wasn’t easy,” Nier told the half truth.

“Now that’s what we like to hear!” Cormorant cheered for him, and then punched at Philip’s arm.

Philip moved so little she may as well have hit a statue. His weary expression only grew worse.

“The _expedition_ , Cormorant,” he reminded her.

“Ah, yes!” Cor tapped at her crown, and then beckoned to Nier and Weiss with a grand gesture. “To the war room, men!”

Cormorant set off at once striding over the stone tiles of the main hall, lost from sight within seconds when she exited the vestibule. Nier and Weiss followed after quickly. As they walked they passed several doors and a connecting hallway. The urge to lean aside and try to espy what lay down at the end gripped the two, but if they gave into curiosity, they were sure to spend the better part of a week meandering this house’s halls. Every square inch begged to be lent a moment so as the trinkets and relics of yore could tell their stories one last time.

Despite the clutter, the calm blue walls in combination with the arched entries gave the home an airy atmosphere. It was definitely the perfect canvas for the rich collection housed within.

“I am glad this place is not as _unsettling_ as Emil’s domain,” Weiss spoke into Nier’s ear.

Nier whispered back a warning, “don’t jinx it. There might be another angry book hidden in all this junk.”

Weiss noted that Cormorant’s stride was halting, lop-sided, but quicker than anticipated. The clip of her heels was in stark contrast to the long, methodical gait of Philip from behind, and even contrasted Nier’s familiar cadence. The Grimoire wondered why the woman limped so badly, but decided to not gawk at her body out of respect. Humans tended to hate the scrutiny.

The hall emptied into a rather spacious room made claustrophobic by the amount of scrolls, books, boxes, and varying antiquities lining its walls.

Weiss twirled around Nier, taking it all in.

“My word…”

A grand table dominated the space, absolutely carpeted by piles of papers. Around the perimeter were clusters of cabinets and tables bearing globes, and crowding those were other yet indecipherable tripods with strange contraptions atop them. There were devices with telescoping rings adorning the walls, along with river maps, tide charts, and a few floor plans of ancient structures.

Weiss had to dodge a model of a strange gray boat dangling from the ceiling of all places.

“The war room!”

“ _The planning room._ ”

Cormorant looked at Philip and he glanced back at her.

“I spoke first, so it’s the war room today,” Cor decided.

Philip seemed to want to argue desperately, but held his tongue. His brows were pinched, and he offered a pained smile to Nier and Weiss.

Nier distanced himself from the scuffle, focusing instead on his surroundings to avoid being caught in a dispute.

“Despite this not having any of the features of a command center,” Philip relented, “we shall call it the war room.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cormorant replied cheekily.

“If you’ll excuse me, I shall go and gird myself properly now,” Philip excused himself and crept away, disappearing into the bazaar of items.

Cormorant called over her shoulder, “oi, Philip! Grab my weapons as well, would ya?”

“As you wish,” Philip yelled back, pestered sounding.

As the two spoke, Nier had noticed that on the other side of the ‘war’ room, a couple of weapons hung on the wall. They weren’t exactly lookers (they were pretty ugly, actually) but each was arrayed across the other with such care on a mounting plate it made them the stand outs amongst the rest.

Light spilling in from the red and gold glassed windows ignited the weapons’ features, painting them red-gold. Each of the blades was lengthy, bearing curved hooks on their ends and crescent blades on their guards.

Nier studied the hooked swords with their scored edges and their gnarled patina. They were incredibly unsightly, bubbles and splotches and glints of raw metal gnawed through. So despicable were they that they looped from being disgusting to being fascinating.

Cormorant casually kicked aside some boxes to walk more easily through.

“Ahhh,” Cormorant acknowledged Nier’s intrigue, “the _hooks_ … an old warrior I knew once used them. Never could get the hang of ‘em myself.”

“Was she a weapons collector?” Nier’s voice hovered on a threat, much to Weiss’ surprise.

“ _He_ ,” Cormorant corrected Nier, “and no. The marks on it? All too real.”

“Oh,” Nier’s edge fell away humbly.

He observed her shuffling yet more boxes aside and offered, “need some help?”

It took Cor a moment, and with a spark, she replied, “…as a matter of fact, I do! Take those crates and shove them over there, my man.”

Nier nodded and got to work. He was pretty confused about this entire social interaction, but shoving boxes? He understood that _completely_.

He shoved aside the few boxes rested against one of the walls, uncovering a dusty set of recessed bookshelves.

Cormorant was able to keep pace with him, surprising Nier since she was about half his size. As she toiled away with the last crate, she leaned hard into the side and a strip of one of her legs glinted.

Wait… it _glinted_ …?

Nier did a double-take, and indeed, the leg shone metallic. Out from the folds of her loose pants protruded a _metal leg_ , the foot of it resembling a sabaton. Its burnished surface was a deep gold, and the bottom edges were scuffed a shade darker with use. Though it seemed to have bared the brunt of life, the leg was not inelegant. Sweeping coils of labyrinthine patterns wrapped around it, glimmering all.

How Nier had missed it was beyond him…

Cormorant turned around, swapping her gaze from Nier’s face to her own replacement limb and back again.

“Ya like it?” she asked him, striking a ‘heroic’ pose. “It’s one of a kind! Designed it myself.”

Nier stuttered, “oh, uh. Yeah. It’s nice. Very… interesting looking,” he said, and then bashfully appended, “in a _good_ way.”

She looked amused while he scratched at the back of his neck.

“The decorations are quite aesthetically pleasing, I do agree,” Weiss tried to smooth over Nier’s bumble.

“Ah, thank you, sir,” Cor dipped her head to him, adding, “your decorations aren’t half bad either!”

“P-pardon me?!” Weiss poised to explode, but Cor could call his bluff.

She gave him a wink, to which he had no rebuff but an ailing stutter.

“You seem to know a thing or two about books, huh?” Nier ventured.

“Oh, I know _all about books_ ,” Cor began, running a hand absently over the bookshelves beside. “Read all kinds. Histories, epics, research papers, extremely grotesque biopsy compilations, cookbooks…”

That wasn’t exactly the kind of book Nier was referring to…

She continued to prattle on, “stay away from the romance books, though. They’re horrible! They’ll leech all your life away with pinin’ and whinin—”

“ _Flying_ books,” Nier stepped in to clarify, “grimoires, like Weiss.”

“OH!” Cor realized, and then turned to face them, a wry smile spreading across her features. “How do you think I lost my leg?”

“Wait, you lost your leg to a—?!” Nier exclaimed.

“A loooong time ago,” she answered.

“And you’d still deign to disrespect me?” Weiss droned, expectant.

Cor shrugged at him, her confidence belying something far more subtle and dangerous. “I got away with the rest of myself somehow, didn’t I?”

The details of the Grimoire’s face twisted as he regarded the woman more carefully.

“You _fought_ one?” Nier asked.

“Nah, I talked it to death,” she replied dryly.

Nier tipped his head.

“’ _course I fought it!_ ”

“On one-leg?” Weiss was skeptical.

Cor nodded slowly.

“It wasn’t a majestic riposte, I admit…” She let the memory take her back, lips twirling in disgust, “I never did set my foot back there… my _one singular foot_.”

She chuckled at her own joke. Nier grimaced while Weiss scoffed with disbelief.

“Things considered, it’s a nice change of pace to see a gentleman grimoire like you,” she spoke kindly to Weiss.

“G-gentleman?” Weiss found himself being complimented! By a _human!_ He was flustered.

Cormorant seemed satisfied with having gotten the Grimoire yet again.

With a sudden realization, she said, “ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s have a little briefing!”

She left the crates they had shoved aside, moving to the massive table in the center of the room.

“Wait, why did we move the—?” Nier stopped, realizing it was just going to be one of those days.

Cormorant plopped down at the head of the grand table. It might’ve truly _been_ used to plot the motions of war, but that was in another time. She cleared off a dozen or so loose parchments and letters coating the top to make room for them all.

“Now, the mission at hand,” she announced with a level of officialness not before heard, “is fairly simple. Let me get the schematic out…”

She began to dig around. After a minute she remembered herself and gestured to a seat around the corner of the table near her.

Nier sat down and stared at the remaining documents littering the table uncomprehendingly, watching as Cormorant scattered and disorganized as she went rifling around for her quarry.

Cor finally stopped disorganizing the piles of papers and books, having found for what she was searching. “Ah, here it is! The copy.”

Cormorant handed the pamphlet to Nier. It was small in his hands, old, leather-bound, with pages uneven, more haphazard than even Weiss’ own.

“ _This_ is the map?” Nier flicked through several dozen of the pages.

“No,” Cor corrected, “this is what we need to _use_ the map.”

“ _Use_ the map?”

“It’s how ya operate the device! A manual! The device will draw us a map,” she explained, making a sweeping gesture, “ _made of light._ ”

Nier was interested, turning the pamphlet over. He was confused too, but that was a constant.

“A map of light?”

“…to find a shadow. How ironic,” Weiss mused.

“Aye, clever.” Cor tipped her head to Weiss, and the Grimoire’s features lifted subtly.

Nier scowled.

When Philip returned he was wearing a befittingly crisp and sharp-cut coat of gray gabardine. It concealed within its cavernous folds a few dark leather banded pouches and other trappings that bore the essentials.

Most prominently of all, the man was carrying a gun.

Of course, Nier didn’t quite realize this, since all he had seen of the like were the massive magical cannons of the Junk Heap and the recessed barrels of P-33 machines. He’d never quite seen a rifle with a bayonet up close, and was currently trying to figure out what was wrong with the funny-looking axe Philip was carrying.

Weiss thought the contraption appeared vaguely familiar, but couldn’t put his dark finger on it. This must have been the _Thundervalor_ that the young guard had spoken about.

Cor asked of Philip, “have you seen where I put that blasted schematic?”

The tall man reached down carefully and returned with a roll of paper from the floor. He placed it back on the table in front of her.

“You knocked it off.”

“Oh! Silly me!” Cormorant regarded herself humorously as she unraveled the paper.

“So, the plan is…” she scoured around the schematic of the area they’d be in, “once we get out of town and up the cliffs, we’ll find the building pretty quick. Inside, we have to hook up the power in several sections… and you have to escort us safely… and make sure nothing interrupts us while we’re fixing things…”

“That sounds like a familiar scenario,” Weiss said.

Philip commented, “not my favorite.”

“The place is like the Junk Heap?” Nier guessed.

“Not quite. But it is indoors. Now, let’s see what else…” She gave the schematic another once over, and another to double-check. She then slapped a hand down on the map, declaring with finality, “aha! I see! _None_ of the rest matters to you.”

Nier and Weiss squinted while Philip sighed.

“All you need to concern yourselves with is keeping shades off our backs while we work,” she explained, “sound simple?”

Nier nodded. “…I’m familiar with the concept.”

“I thought you would be,” Cormorant agreed, “oh, and can’t forget this.”

She slid a piece of parchment toward Nier.

Written upon it was a sum of money that Nier had only scarcely seen in a place like Facade, never from someone in Seafront. His eye widened a bit before he forced himself to remain neutral.

“What’s this?”

“Your fee, for when we get back,” Cormorant seemed shocked that he even asked.

“My… fee,” Nier repeated, unsure. “Yeah.”

“Philip _did_ tell you that we were paying, right?” she inquired, sparing a sidelong look to the man in question.

There was silence.

“You came out all this way just on the lead?” she was incredulous.

Nier took a moment to consider an answer, and Cormorant narrowed her eyes to slits as she inspected him. Weiss cleared his throat.

“I merely assumed you were of such stature that fair compensation was obligatory,” the Grimoire spoke on the man’s behalf.

Cor gave him a knowing smirk.

“You know me well, then,” she replied.

“I came out here because I need to find the Shadowlord. No more or less,” he crossed his arms after he made his point.

Cormorant replied, “then let’s get to it.”

“Your weapon, Cor,” Philip offered the rifle to the woman, prompting her to stand.

“Much appreciated,” she said as she slipped the sling over her head and adjusted it under her capelet.

Nier followed, rising to his feet and stretching slightly in anticipation of the trek ahead.

Weiss inquired after a moment of pondering, “if this map only works when there is a power source connected, how will we keep the coordinates when we leave?”

“You can draw in ink what you see with your eyes, right?” Cormorant asked the Grimoire as she secured a pouch to her hip, just under her sash.

“O-of course,” Weiss sounded surprised, “how did you know?”

“Any magician worth their salt can!” Cormorant exclaimed, and then added, “you know, for a grimoire who slays giant shadebeasts, you’re pretty timid.”

“Ah…?” the Grimoire acknowledged this sheepishly.

He _did_ slay those beasts, didn’t he? With Nier’s help of course, but it was _his_ magic…

“I will be recording the map so, if you need assistance with the spell,” Philip offered to him.

Weiss jerked his front cover toward the man, stating, “I shall not be needing assistance. Grimoire Weiss is perfectly self sufficient!”

Nier sighed.

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Cormorant swung her metal leg around, making her way to the bookcase they’d uncovered.

She beckoned the men, “come on, I know you’re all itchin’ to cover ground.”

“What are you doing?” Nier asked.

“This is why I had you move those boxes,” Cormorant said as she tossed a few books off the shelf and reached into a recess beyond.

A few thunderous _clanks_ resounded through the home’s hind quarters, and the floor shook a mite.

“Huh?!” Nier hunkered down and glanced all over.

“The bookcase…” Weiss alerted him, and sure enough, one of the shelves was pivoting forward on massive hinges, revealing a cavernous opening.

Philip had produced a lantern, and was lighting it with care. Finished, he hoisted it high on his lanky arm.

The bookcase ground to a halt half-open. Cor snorted with disgust and kicked it, the mechanisms jolting and starting up once more.

“ _Of course_ there’s a secret to the manor such as this,” Weiss mumbled to himself.

The bookcase finished opening with a dusty rumble. Before them all the hidden passage loomed, its deep void contrasting the jumbled menagerie of the home. Even in such a short span of time, a cool wind issued into the house, and with it the hint of eerie waters.

“ _Bam!_ Secret tunnel!” Cormorant announced.

Nier was wary. “Secret tunnel?”

“You never seen one?!” Cormorant was surprised.

“Er, yeah,” Nier returned, embarrassed, “but I didn’t think—”

“There’s your problem: not thinkin’!” she cut Nier off, “time’s wastin’! Sally forth, boys!”

“Ooh, yes! Sally forth,” Weiss parroted giddily. This was the first time he’d heard one beside he use such phraseology!

Nier appeared concerned about him.

“After me.” Philip led the way with his lantern, affectation blasé as ever.

Into another gloomy passage Nier and Weiss went, and the further they traveled, the louder the ocean’s roar became and more staunch the salt spray smelled.

As perplexing as she was, Nier liked the spontaneous, jovial energy Cormorant gave off, finding his strides lighter and bouncier as he marched in step with hers. He almost expected old Cor to start singing, but the tunnel was already drowned in the echoes of their footfalls.

“Oh! And by the way, Nier,” Cormorant mentioned as an aside, “really like your leather-work. Especially that mask. Fits your face like a glove, it does.”

Nier grinned and shot back a loud, “thanks!”

He flashed the grin to Weiss, smug.

“Oh, _shut up._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, thanks for reading!
> 
> Hint: comments help a lot more than you think. This kind of fic is an endangered species. Don't let it go extinct!


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